I know you care
by ceceba
Summary: A little angst/smut Olicity one shot.


**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine but the pattern in which I organized words.

**A/N:** This is somewhere during/after season 3, idk. Written with knowledge as far as 3x02, and clearly necessary because these two are frustrating.

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><p>Felicity sensed something was wrong the moment she walked into the foundry. The room was dark, not a single light burning, and she had to use her phone to guide her along the wall. She found the electricity switch and the room sprung to live in front of her eyes. It looked normal alright, metal and glass, gleaming the usual bluish tone. What was unusual was Oliver sitting on the table - half naked and his shoulder patched up.<p>

"Oh my god, what happened to you?", she asked as she rushed up to him, placing one hand on his good shoulder, the other on his cheek. "Are you okay?"

He kept staring ahead, ignoring her completely. She pulled her hands back.

"Oliver, you're scaring me. What _happened_? Who patched you up? Diggle?"

He finally snapped out of his retrieve and looked at her. His eyes were still distant and cold.

"No. I-myself."

"You patched up yourself? Why didn't you call me? I'm off since a few hours, spending my night with take-out and Netflix. Which you probably didn't want to know about. Sorry. Let me just have a look at that…."

She started to pull the bandage away when he slapped her hand away.

"I'm fine, Felicity.", he said.

Clenching her fists she stepped back.

"Sure", she said. "You're fine. You're always. Fine. Because you're the Arrow. You don't feel anything." Another step back. "You don't allow yourself to feel anything. So why even bother asking how you are." Another step. "The answer will always be fine. Because you are a self sufficient asshole that doesn't-that doesn't let anybody in."

She stood there for a while, silent. He looked away and for a moment she wondered if she might actually had hurt him. Apparently though there was nothing to hurt and Oliver had nothing to say, so she turned and started walking away.

"He stood right there."

She turned back. Oliver was looking at her, blinking as if surfacing from underwater. She walked towards him, encouragingly.

"Malcom Merlyn, he stood right there and -and pointed his bow at me. And then he shot me. I-I don't know why he didn't kill me. But he didn't…..he didn't say anything. He just waited for me down here and then he shot me and….."

He looked away again and Felicity itched to touch him, hug him, soothe him. But the Arrow didn't need soothing and so she kept her hands to herself.

"Oliver….", she said instead.

His eyes were full of sorrow and he looked like he was about to cry. No, he already was watering up.

"I keep thinking -I keep thinking that if I died down here...I could have died down here and I would have been all alone and that made me realize I don't want to die alone, Felicity, I don't want to die alone down here…."

His hand lingered midair, unsure whether to touch her or not. That was all the permission she needed. His hands hovered in the air a little longer before they settled down on her back, pressing her closer to him.

"You are not going to die alone down here."

"I am sorry. I am so sorry, Felicity. I have been such an ass lately."

She pulled away a little to look at him. She was oddly aware of her hands cupping his face and the way her thumb rested on his cheekbone. At the same time she couldn't have cared less.

"You are lucky it's not too late for apologies yet."

He pulled her into the hug again.

"I'm sorry. I will tell Diggle first thing tomorrow. I'll call Laurel and tell her I was wrong. I'm just so sorry."

Her thumb stroked his cheek absently, smearing his tears in the process. She sniffed, realizing for the first time she was tearing too. She tightened the hug and he winced.

"Your shoulder, sorry", she said while letting go. "You sure that it's alright?"

She was already dabbling with the bandage again and he placed his hands over hers.

"It'll be fine."

He stared at her and she held his gaze, her thumb still caressing his cheek, their hands intervened.

And then she kissed him, taking her hand from his shoulder to place it on his face again. To her surprise he kissed her back, cupping her face with both his hands, the way he'd done it on their first kiss. But that was all these kisses had in common. While the first one had been short, a failed experiment, this one was the complete opposite. They poured everything that had gathered in the past weeks into the kiss: longing, desperation, pain and fear. They kissed, broke apart to breathe, and then collided again, trying to say so many things at the same time. His hands wandered down to her hips and they pulled apart. She smiled content and he smiled back, but his eyes were asking for more.

It took her only a moment to make that decision. She took his hand and led him across the room, towards the cot that had been his sleeping quarters for a while now. Laying down proved somewhat difficult with a shot shoulder, yet they managed. Her sitting on top of him they started kissing again. She wound her hands through his hair and his hands wandered down and under her shirt. He tried to lift it and she felt him wince a little.

"Here, let me do it…", she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and kissed a delicious trail down her neck, along her collarbone, between her breasts. She arched up moaning, enabling him to kiss down her stomach. When she sat down again she kissed along his jawline. He placed his hands on the nape of her neck, resting his forehead against hers.

"With what do I even deserve you, Felicity?", he asked, his voice hoarse.

"You were the one to trust me in the first place, remember?", she sighs.

"But that doesn't mean you have to return that trust. Not after all those awful-"

She shushed him with a finger to his lips. He opened his mouth as if to protest, then decided against it and nibbled at her fingertips instead. Smiling, she kissed him again. He fell flat against the mattress, catching her by surprise, but she managed not to fall against him. He stroked down her arms, caressing her triceps.

"You've been working out", he said, clearly impressed. "You know I'll have you continue that if you are to be my girlfriend" he planted a kiss on her jaw. "maybe teach you to shoot the bow" He trailed down her neck. "Or a gun" along her shoulder, down her arm.

"And what makes you think I'll be your girlfriend?", she said, barely stifling a moan.

"I'll remind you off that question after we are done here." His mouth was on her collarbone and his hands slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt.

"What happened to the Oliver Queen that was crying just now?"

He took her hands and cupped his face with them.

"You know exactly what happened to him", he said, his voice thick. "_You_."


End file.
